


trust me

by softambrollins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: Cas just looks startled for a moment before his face settles again, into almost quiet resignation. And that just makes it even worse. Cas is always so damn willing to jump into the fire for them, forhim, always willing to accept his fate, out of guilt or misplaced loyalty or —love, and he's always so fucking ungrateful."Dean —" Cas says in a low exhale. He steps closer to him, hand slightly outstretched tentatively in front of him, like he's unsure whether he should touch him or not."Cas, Ican't— I can't lose you again," he says, voice wrecked, blinking away tears.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 293





	trust me

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written SPN fic in about five years, so apologies if I'm super rusty and this is weird. But that episode was everything I wanted for a long time, and so much more than I ever expected, and I couldn't contain my feelings.

He's in his room when Cas knocks on his open door. He's not actively avoiding either of them, he just — needed some time alone. To think. About everything. Cas had seemed to sense that when they got back to the bunker. They'd just sat in silence at the kitchen table for a long time. He didn't try to engage him in any kind of conversation, but it was a comfortable silence, unlike the past few weeks and _months_ when they could barely look at each other, when they'd felt miles apart even when they were standing in the same room. It's like he knew that his prayer had taken everything out of him, wrung him dry of words, of everything he's kept inside for so long, for his whole life, and had never been able to say out loud to anyone. Until it was like he couldn't hold it in anymore, like it was ripped out of him just from pure desperation and hopelessness. Leaning against a tree in Purgatory, barely able to hold his own body weight up, spilling his guts and his soul to Cas, even though he didn't know if he could hear him, if he was already dead, gone, but _needing_ to say it, while he still could, before it was too late. Even if there was only a ghost of a chance.

He'd felt so helpless, calling his name, wandering around futilely in the vast, wild expanse of forest, thinking he'd never find him, or worse. There was a part of him that knew that if he couldn't find Cas before their time ran out, he wouldn't have had the strength to step through the portal alone. He would've just stayed there. Let the world end. Because what would be the point?

And then there was the pure relief of seeing him there and _alive_ again. He almost didn't want to let him go. But he needed to know he'd heard him. But Cas had stopped him, that understanding look in his eyes, like he knew how hard that was for him. Like he was grateful but he didn't need him to say it again. And Dean had just felt something warm and bright flare up inside of him. Just for a moment but it knocked his entire world sideways. It wasn't anger for once. Or desperation or defiance or self-destruction or any of the other countless feelings he'd disguised for the real thing throughout his entire life. It was something he hadn't felt for a long, long time. Maybe not ever.

And then it was all offset again hours later — by Chuck, by the plan not working, by Sammy's vision of the future. And it's like everything he's done, to get Cas back, to keep them together, to fight this, was all for nothing. Because they're going to lose. They were always going to lose. 

He's been slowly pacing the length of the room for an hour like a spectre, turning everything over in his head, a glass grasped in his hand that's barely touched his lips. He knows he can't dull this feeling anymore. Maybe he doesn't even want to try. 

He sets it down now, looking up at Cas, as he crosses the threshold of the room, standing right in front of him. 

"You okay?" Cas asks, his face worn and downcast. He looks how Dean feels. Purgatory gets inside your bones, they both know that, and missing their only shot at Chuck was a heavy blow to all of them.

Dean brushes off the question. Cas already knows he's not okay. None of them are okay. And there's no use in trying to hide anything anymore. "I should be asking you that. You're the one who had to fend off Leviathans by yourself and still managed to grab the flower."

Cas just tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I'd probably feel better about that if it wasn't a complete waste."

"Hey, wasn't a complete waste. We know what Chuck's endgame is now. That's something." He knows he doesn't sound as confident as he's trying his hardest to.

Cas just gives him an encouraging look like he knows exactly what he's doing.

"You were right. We'll figure something else out. We always do." He doesn't know if Cas really believes it or if he's just trying to do exactly what Dean's trying to do, make them both feel better in impossible circumstances. It's what they always say, it's what they _have_ to say, because otherwise they're just left with nothing.

Dean just nods at him absently for a few moments, not really looking at him, and then he just feels something break inside him just like it did back in Purgatory and his stoic expression completely falters again.

"Sam told me, uh, in the visions — Of the future or whatever. That you took the Mark. And then we had to bury you in the Ma'lak box…" He looks right up into Cas's eyes, his own already prickling with more unshed tears; it's like there are permanent cracks now in his armour, with no anger and blame left to seal them up. Everything's risen up to the surface inside of him and it's spilling free. Maybe it should make him feel weak, but it just makes him feel more human, more _real_. Chuck may be controlling everything else, but his pain and his fight and his relentless need to hold on to his family at all costs belong to _him_. They're his and his alone and nothing can take that away. 

Cas just looks startled for a moment before his face settles again, into almost quiet resignation. And that just makes it even worse. Cas is always so damn willing to jump into the fire for them, for _him_ , always willing to accept his fate, out of guilt or misplaced loyalty or — _love_ , and he's always so fucking ungrateful.

"Dean —" Cas says in a low exhale. He steps closer to him, hand slightly outstretched tentatively in front of him, like he's unsure whether he should touch him or not.

"Cas, I _can't_ — I can't lose you again," he says, voice wrecked, blinking away tears.

"Dean, it's gonna be okay —" He reaches out and just gently touches his fingers to Dean's forearm. Dean doesn't pull away but just squeezes his eyes shut, head hanging low like he physically can't keep it up anymore. They're so close that Dean can feel his warmth, his slow, steady breathing.

Cas gradually slides his hand down his arm and curls it around Dean's wrist, thumb resting against his pulse point. Dean just lifts his head slowly, shaking it disconsolately, his face twisting into a bitter grimace. "I almost lost you today. I've already lost you so many times. And too many of those times, it was my own damn fault. Because I was too fucking stupid."

"It's not your fault, Dean," Cas says quietly. "None of this is your fault."

"It's just — I don't know what's wrong with me. That I couldn't say that before — that I couldn't let myself accept it. That it takes losing everything for me to finally admit that I —" He cuts himself off with a broken sob.

Before Dean realises what he's doing, Cas raises his other hand to his cheek, lightly strokes his fingertips over his skin, wipes away some stray tears with his thumb. It's so unexpectedly tender that he lets out a small gasp and he can't help leaning into his touch, his eyes falling shut again, feeling so, so tired and lost. Cas's touch is his only salve, his only direction.

"Dean, it's okay. I understand," he tells him, voice barely more than a murmur. "You've lost so much in your life. More than anyone should ever have to bear. And it never ends. And the hits just keep coming. I know why you're angry. I know why it's so hard to admit how much you care. Because it makes losing everything so much worse."

"It hurts anyway," he grits out. "It hurts so fucking much, Cas. Every time. And I can't do anything about it — I can't stop it —"

Cas pulls him close into a crushing embrace now. Arms tight around his body, hands running over his hair, as he cradles his head against his shoulder. Dean clutches his fists into the back of his coat and he doesn't want to let go just like before. This time, with the clock not running down until the portal closes, maybe he might just not. Maybe they could just stay here until Chuck decides he's done and turns the lights out on the whole damn universe. 

"It's okay, Dean," Cas says against his ear, soft and soothing, like a litany. "It's okay."

They have to pull apart eventually, Dean wiping away the remaining moisture from his eyes, Cas still just gazing at him, eyes sad and soft.

"Guess you're probably sick of me being a crybaby on you by now. Wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave again," Dean teases with a laugh.

Cas just lets out the slightest chuckle before smiling at him. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

Dean just takes his hand and squeezes it for a second, looking at him intently, eyes unblinking. "Good," he says simply before dropping his hand.

Cas just grows serious and focused again, blue eyes blazing with an intense fire. "Dean, I promise you. We'll stop it. Together. We'll stop Chuck. We'll make our own future. Because that's what we do. That's what you _taught_ me to do."

Dean just gives him an ironic smile. "It's funny. For a guy who's supposedly the paragon of free will, I've never been too good at just letting myself get what I want."

Cas just gives him a strange look, almost guarded for the first time, like he thinks he knows what that means but he doesn't trust himself to be sure.

"About what you said, in Purgatory, your prayer —" he starts evenly.

"You said you heard it," Dean says, meeting his gaze.

"Yeah. I heard all of it. And you forgive me," Cas says, like some small part of him is still doubting that. 

"I'll always forgive you," Dean says honestly. "No matter what. You're my best friend. You've been there for me when everything else, the whole damn world, was falling apart. When I was at my worst. When I didn't have any hope. Letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made. I was miserable without you. Ask Sam. I just didn't have anything else to hold on to, except being mad at you. I only blamed you because otherwise I could only blame _myself_. For Mom. For Jack. For all of it."

Cas lets out a breath before just looking at him, expression open and earnest now. "Dean, I know you've been struggling. With all of this. Since — Since Mary. And then Chuck — And I hated that you pushed me away. When all I wanted was to be here. With you. Helping you carry that burden. Sharing each other's grief."

"Wasn't your fault," Dean says dismissively. "I didn't want your help. I didn't think it was real. Didn't think any of this was real. I didn't trust it. Didn't trust _you_. Didn't trust that you coming into my life, saving me from Hell, wasn't just another sick game of Chuck's to fuck with me some more."

He can't blame Cas for not trusting him, not trusting his feelings, when it's been so, so hard for him to trust Cas. Since the beginning. To trust that he was there and that he really cared about him, really wanted him, that he was _Dean's_ and he wasn't going to leave.

"Dean, I'm here. I'm real," Cas tells him, just like he told him months ago when he didn't want to hear it. "This is real. It's always been real." 

Dean nods. "I know that now," he tells him firmly.

"Okay, that's good. That's good, Dean," Cas breathes, and it looks like a heavy load's been lifted off of him. "That's how we beat him. Holding on to ourselves. The things we believe in."

"Yeah, but that's not the _only_ way to beat him," Dean says significantly. "If you can't let yourself feel what you really feel, have what you really want — Then there's no point in any of it. Fighting. Saving the world. _Living_."

"I want you to be happy, Dean. I want that more than anything," Cas says and he sounds like he means it so much that Dean's heart aches. Even after everything, after Dean was so fucking awful to him, he still only wants Dean to be safe and whole and at peace. Even if that means dying, probably. But Dean will never be any of those things without Cas. He knows that now. He should've made sure Cas knew that years and years ago. That there was no doubt or uncertainty, that Dean would always forgive him, would always want him back, would always be there to bring him home.

"You didn't hear all of it, you know. There was something else. Something I wanted to tell you when I was looking right at you. When I knew you could hear it. Something I never thought I would get the chance to do. Something I never thought I'd be brave enough to do. But if not now, then when, right?" Dean says, with just a hint of a smile.

Cas just stares at him with his mouth slightly parted, eyes wide, like he's barely breathing until Dean leans in and presses his lips to his. Careful and deliberate and full of purpose. It's like he's saying, _Trust me. Trust me. Trust this. Don't ever leave me again._ So that Cas will never again be confused about what he means to Dean. So that he'll _always_ know what Dean feels for him, what he feels for Dean, that nothing can ever break this, that Dean will never let him go again. He should've done this a long time ago too.

It's like something else breaks in him now. But it's pure contentment and relief and surging, overwhelming _hope_. He didn't think he was capable of feeling this. He thought that this part of him would've been worn away by years and years of waging wars and crushing grief and darkness that felt insurmountable, by his entire life, but it's still there somehow. A small but powerful flame thriving deep down inside of him. And now it's ignited his entire being. 

Cas sighs into the kiss, bringing his hands up to rest them on his face, and he thinks he can feel his grace touching him inside. It's like when he heals him but different, almost like an embrace, like two souls intertwining around each other. Fitting together just as they're supposed to. Like this is where they always belonged.

They kiss and kiss, Dean's arms around his waist and Cas's heart thundering in his chest right against his own and making tiny gasps against his mouth and his fingers tracing over his skin, tasting each other, new and familiar and undeniable. It's like getting out of Purgatory after being stuck there for years, finally being able to breathe fresh air, to cast off the filth and the guilt and the despair dragging his soul down into the dirt. If something like this, so pure and right and _real_ , exists in this world, then maybe there's a chance for them yet. Against all the demons and darkness and monsters in every universe and God himself.

They pull apart after what feels like a lifetime, foreheads pressed together, Cas's hands still framing his face.

"I love you," Dean says against his lips. Because he has to this time. It comes out as easy and effortless as anything, as simple as breathing. 

"I've always loved you, Dean Winchester," Cas tells him, his voice as constant and absolute as the foundations of the earth, as the dawning of all existence. "And I always will."

Dean leans in and kisses him one more time, soft and slow and lingering. 

"That's how I know we're gonna win," Dean says, voice full and sure now. "Because we're not alone. Because this is stronger than anything. Even God."


End file.
